Palm Readings and Zombie Walks

Maya's palms were sweating so much she felt like she'd dipped them in a sink. Junior prom. The night everyone had been hyping since, like, September, and she was currently hyperventilating behind a decorative fern.

"You look like you're about to yeet yourself out that exit," said a voice dripping with sarcasm.

Maya jumped. It was Dev, dressed as a zombie — complete with shredded tux and green face paint that was actually kind of impressive given it was NOT a costume dance.

"I'm not trying to hear that bull right now," she snapped, then immediately regretted it. Dev had been roasting her since third grade; she should be used to it by now.

"Chill, I come in peace." He held up his hands, then pointed at the fortune teller booth in the corner. "Wanna get your palm read? My treat. Figured you need a distraction before you pass out."

Maya rolled her eyes but followed him. The fortune teller, some senior who definitely got paid minimum wage to wear a headwrap, studied her palm with exaggerated seriousness.

"You're scared of something," the girl announced. "But you're gonna do it anyway."

"Wow, such insight," Maya deadpanned. "My fifty bucks well spent."

"No, for real. You're letting fear zombie-walk you through life when you could actually be living it." The girl lowered her voice. "Go ask Jay to dance. He's been looking at you all night."

Maya's heart did this embarrassing flutter thing. Jay from pre-calc. Jay who drew anime in the margins of his notes and had really nice hands.

"Total bull," Dev whispered, but he was grinning. "Except the part about Jay staring. That's been obvious since homecoming."

The fortune teller shrugged. "Your move, future-seer."

And okay, maybe it was cheesy, and maybe Dev was being his usual chaotic self, and maybe the whole situation was weirdly dystopian with the decorations and the bass throbbing through her chest. But Maya found herself walking across the gym anyway.

Her palms were still sweating. Jay still looked terrifyingly cute. But when she tapped his shoulder and asked if he wanted to dance, he said yes like he'd been waiting for it all year.

Dev gave her a thumbs-up from the snack table, looking proud in his stupid zombie makeup. And Maya realized something: sometimes you have to let a fake fortune teller and a kid in green face paint push you toward the things you're too scared to want.

Also, Jay really did have nice hands. Not that she was staring or anything.